


Sell it for money and cars

by bluebells



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Christening the new ride, Complicated Relationships, Cunnilingus, Dinah is a few chapters ahead on social dynamics and it's biting Helena in the ass, F/F, In memory of the Huntress’s gorgeous ride may she rest in peace, Motorcycle Sex, Oral Sex, Post-Film, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22675096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Dinah is standing near enough at her shoulder to steal her air, sweet face tilted up and curious (that’s a lie, little about Dinah is sweet but Helena never learned the words for all the things Dinah stirs inside her). She can feel the heat of Dinah’s body radiating like a furnace against her bare arm, and she wonders how the woman got so close without her notice.As an assassin, she’s embarrassed. As a human, she’s plain offended.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli | Huntress / Dinah Lance | Black Canary, Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance, The Huntress/Black Canary
Comments: 38
Kudos: 391





	Sell it for money and cars

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by Black Canary’s everything, every thirst tweet over Elizabeth Mary Winstead on that motorbike, and GALXARA’S high note in the final chorus on “Sway With Me” from the soundtrack. The feminine energy of this entire production is fire.

It takes Helena longer than it should to replace her bike. 

She’s a little embarrassed that she totalled the first one -- it’s a write-off when she takes it to the repair shop, stone-faced through the mechanic’s polite enquiries of how it happened. Small talk is agonising. If the mechanic notices the flushed strain she can feel in her cheeks, they don’t mention it (thank God).

The equilibrium of a bike isn’t engineered to withstand the kind of torque Harley had demanded. 

_“Whip me!”_

She covers her face remembering the bewildering confusion she’d felt at Harley’s order.

_“What?”_

_“Whip me!”_

In retrospect, it was kind of a miracle she understood what the woman meant but there was really no other way to interpret it in the heat of the moment. 

Of _that_ moment, at least. 

Helena doesn’t realise how long she’s been standing before her new acquisition, zoned out and face burning at the recollection.

A hand waves in her face. Slim fingers snap before her eyes. 

She recoils and when the world sharpens back into focus, Dinah Lance is beside her under the moonlight of their warehouse, long hair a gorgeous mess, eyebrow cocked in wry amusement as she waits for Helena to release her captured wrist.

That look makes Helena’s face flare with heat all over again, mouth dry. 

It’s infuriating how each of these women in Helena’s life can make her feel transparent with a mere glance, but at least when it was Harley, it was just the clown peering over the psychologist’s glasses-- and honestly, fuck the psychs.

When Renee pauses and takes her in, lips thinning, eyes soft, it makes Helena rankle, roll that pity like a muscle tic out of her shoulders. Helena is not weak in need of charity. She avenged her family. She’s keeping Gotham safe. She’s fine. She’ll take Renee’s offer of a drink, but she doesn’t need the sympathy.

The kid was ok. Too overwhelmed to be anything more than mute and grateful when Helena had pushed her anchor into those small hands and urged her to close her eyes.

But when Dinah looks at her. Fuck, Dinah.

“New ride?” The Canary smirks, dark eyes searching Helena’s face and -- _why_ is it so hard to meet her eye? Dinah doesn’t spare a glance for the glossy black new motorbike before them. 

A waste. Her ride is beautiful. Helena polished it herself, wiped down every smear until its finish was gleaming but she kind of regrets it now that she can see their reflection in defined clarity on its body. 

Dinah is standing near enough at her shoulder to steal her air, sweet face tilted up and curious (that’s a lie, little about Dinah is sweet but Helena never learned the words for all the things Dinah stirs inside her). She can feel the heat of Dinah’s body radiating like a furnace against her bare arm, and she wonders how the woman got so close without her notice.

As an assassin, she’s embarrassed. As a human, she’s plain offended.

She throws Dinah’s wrist off and pretends she doesn’t hear the woman’s soft laugh. It makes warm tingles go down her spine, and her hands itch, palms hot.

Dinah knows this.

“Where’s Renee?” Helena asks, throat tight and nervous.

Dinah’s smirk softens, and Helena knows she heard the tension in her voice.

“No Montoya tonight. She had something to take care of the other side of town.” Dinah strides towards the bike, motions slow and fluid, little drag of her heel and arch of her shoulder. 

The sight inspires a conditioned response and Helena is swallowing moisture down her dry throat, heart pounding by the time Dinah has thrown one long, long leg over Helena’s new pride and sat back astride that leather seat.

Her smile is full of promise. She pats the space between her spread thighs, and Helena’s full attention snaps down to follow, helplessly. The shadows between her legs shift as Dinah tilts her hips, getting comfortable in her recline. Helena nearly groans at the memory of how warm it is between them.

Dinah’s gaze is intent. She purrs, quiet and breathy, “Come here.”

Invisible weights leaden Helena’s feet even as those smouldering eyes pull her in, but when she sinks against Dinah on the frame of that bike, all those weights seem to fall away. There are strong hands on the back of her thighs and Helena whimpers into Dinah’s mouth as she’s pulled into her lap, weight sinking against the singer. 

Fingers dig into the meat of her legs, Dinah is sucking a new bruise up beneath her jaw, and then kissing her again-- over and over, wet, hot and so deliciously slow. Her tongue tangles in Helena’s mouth; Helena’s hands are in her hair, arching her back, and it’s pure fire when Dinah groans at Helena’s grind down into her lap. 

“Oh yeah… that’s it,” Dinah smiles, chest pushing up into hers-- then yelping, hands thrown out for balance when Helena stands, tugging the woman’s hips forward and up into her lap.

“Try not to tip the bike,” Helena mutters, mouth tense against the smirk beaming back at her. She lowers herself, leaning in. “It’s new.”

Dinah's knees spread around her shoulders, Helena crushes her mouth to the soft, gold polyester pants covering Dinah’s groin. The other woman arches, electrified, knees hiking higher with a deep groan of want as though she’s been waiting for this all day. She probably has.

Helena has been waiting longer. Longer than she thought she’d have to since the last time.

Dinah has a habit of making her wait, inviting Helena to this when she least expects it; a few hours so soon after the last encounter or until days-- weeks have passed and Helena is left musing if that was it. She doesn’t like waiting. She doesn’t like uncertainty. She doesn’t like wondering if each time will be the last time because she doesn’t have the words to pin the liquid, jittery hunger Dinah unspools in her gut, or to ask about the way Dinah makes her heart race when she’s simply watching from across the room.

It’s annoying.

Dinah’s hands are in her hair, strong fingers massaging her scalp, cupping the back of her neck. She sighs and breathes and shivers as Helena mouths at her, abusing her soft flesh through the slippery cloth of her pants. They’re chosen thin for freedom of movement, for Dinah’s high, high kicks. Right now, Helena loves how easily those pants let her mould her tongue to Dinah’s folds, bury her face and devour her as she’s starving. 

Dinah whimpers, thighs trembling as she tries to spread them farther, belly curving beneath the anchor of Helena’s hands.

“That’s it,” Dinah’s gratified moans make her feel so powerful as they fill the air around them, as her hips begin to jerk. “Good, you’re so good….”

Dinah is so hot down here.

“ _Uuuhn,_ please tell me you brought it,” Dinah begs, gentle pressure on the back of Helena’s neck to encourage her in harder. 

It takes a moment for her meaning to parse and then Helena is blushing all over again, neck hot. She glares up at the other woman from between her legs. 

“God you’re impatient,” she mutters and leans back to drag the woman’s pants down, peeling them off her body, grateful that Dinah helps by raising her hips because those legs go on forever and Helena is not confident she wouldn’t accidentally introduce her face to Dinah’s knees.

“Oh, honey, if you let me return the favour even once you’d understand why your strap game is worth the hurry.”

Helena blinks at her, ears ringing, stunned. “What-- can you just--”

Dinah grins back at her, guileless and without a shred of shame. The skin of her chest gleams with sweat in the wide gape of her shirt, and she spreads her thighs again.

But this time they’re bare and the endless expanse of that smooth, brown, flawless skin makes Helena’s mouth water, brain short-circuiting, she tries to drink in the moment, slow down time and take her fill, take in the shape of every contour, muscle and shadow of this meal, but her eyes inevitably snap down between Dinah’s hips when those skinny knees draw high and apart, opening herself wide.

The folds of her cunt are already glistening wet, the skin dark and flushed with arousal from the efforts of Helena’s attention.

_Fu-uu-uu-uck._

Helena shakes her head in disbelief, angry at her own helplessness, at the gorgeous woman who keeps hooking her in with no more than a smile and the memory of her scent.

“Shut up, just--” The bike trembles as Helena adjusts her weight, as Dinah’s hands fly down to grasp at chrome-polished tubing for a handhold, as her knees are pushed higher against her sides, “Shut the fuck up--”

A moan punches out of Dinah's chest when Helena kisses her cunt the way she wants to kiss her mouth: sloppy, molten and rough. She rumbles deep in relish when Dinah’s slick hits her tongue, head swimming with the flavour and scent.

Helena sags against the bike’s seat, sinking in deeper, fingers grope at Dinah's hips and belly to drag her in closer, and Dinah goes, keening high and sharp.

It’s been too fucking long.

Helena drinks her down to claim this much of her, to silence her but it only makes Dinah louder with strained, pleading cries. It’s kind of gratifying making the Canary weep. It should be. Helena has spent hours between these legs learning just what Dinah needs, the most attentive student under her shivery instructions. 

Dinah shakes under the broad, wet circles Helena licks against her over and over. Helena moans with each drag of her tongue between those lips, keeping her touch patient, thick and wet, then presses harder when Dinah whines, tilting up for more.

Helena buries her face, cheeks smearing with slick, and fastens firmly around the thick clit begging for attention; she stills and sucks and hums with warm pleasure. Dinah bucks into her mouth, unable to hold back.

“T-that’s it-- _oh,_ that’s it--”

Helena cycles back through familiar patterns, circling slow, stroking deep, feels Dinah’s slick drip down her chin as she suckles and groans on her clit, and repeats, all over again, and again until Dinah’s cries are high and thin and her hips are jerking up into Helena’s mouth. 

“Oh, baby, part it and kiss it,” Dinah begs, and Helena is so well trained, so starving for it she doesn’t hesitate.

Gloved fingers on each side of her cunt draw those thick lips apart, exposing her inner walls. Dinah lurches at the broad, heavy tongue that laves up the centre of her; up and down, before sinking into the core of her, curling tight against the fluttering clench of her upper walls, and this is where Helena wishes tongues were just better equipped for this. She would love to help Dinah find release by fucking her with her tongue, but she always needs something more.

More is for later.

 _“Oh!”_ Dinah’s hands fly to grasp her knees when Helena fastens on her exposed clit and flicks her tongue. She licks quickly, eases the pressure, goes in hard again, flickering and fucking that nub, and Dinah’s chest heaves as she holds herself open, “Yes--mm-- ahhn, yes! Yes… a-aah, yeah… _yeah….”_

The tortured look on her face is so fucking hot. Helena groans against her, and Dinah’s whole body seizes under the vibrations, muscles of her stomach standing hard. 

She comes, crying softly, tensing and untensing as Helena suckles her through it, and it’s sweet, so fucking sweet, but Dinah is not _sweet_ and Helena doesn’t want her crying. 

She wants her fucking sobbing and howling until they both have to worry about her real cry.

“You’re mad at me,” Dinah observes once she’s come down from her high. Sweat lines her brow and the sparkle of tears tell Helena it really was good. 

But Dinah is right. She’s mad.

She’s not always mad. They’re a good team. But things were so much simpler before they fell together like this and Helena’s body decided it had thirty years to make up for. She’s just… Dinah is the only one she can ask for this and most of the time it isn’t even her asking. She has to wait until Dinah decides she wants it, but Helena wants it _all the time._

Fucking hormones. She can’t wait for this phase to pass.

Dinah lets her thighs fall down the sides of the motorbike when Helena goes to her pack, wiping her chin of the worst she can feel trickling down her jaw. Maybe they should invest in dental dams. She only recently learned that was a thing.

And she should probably get some condoms for the next item she pulls from her pack, but she only uses it for Dinah. 

The way Dinah’s breath catches when she sees Helena fastening the strap to her hips is comical, every fucking time. The Canary’s doe-eyed glaze from her release melts under the renewed smoulder of pure _lust._ Helena has barely straddled the bike again before Dinah’s thighs are open, and she’s beckoning Helena in closer, down, _here_ , holding the lips of her own cunt open as though Helena needs a fucking map. 

“Shit, you love this, don’t you?” Helena muses, lets it slap down hard, and Dinah starts with a whine, writhing on the bike seat as Helena drags her thick cock back and forth between the lips of her cunt; lust shivering through her at the sight and sound of Dinah trembling under the sensation.

Dinah’s hands reach for Helena’s sides. “Please… Helena….”

“Ah-ah!” Helena smacks those hands aside. 

Dinah just pulls a face at her.

Towering over the lithe fighter sprawled open on her ride, watching her chest heave, muscles of her arms tensed on the bike's handlebars, Helena sparks an idea.

Shoving a hand into Dinah’s bra to fist her breast, she growls at Dinah’s snarl of want, the hand that closes over hers, encouraging the greedy touch. Helena leans down into her face, grinding her cock against the seam of her, and squeezes her breast. “Get your legs up.”

Dinah’s hot breath huffs against her cheeks, she smirks and does as she’s told-- then flinches, startled when Helena shoves her higher up the bike and hooks her ankles beneath the handlebars. Holds them there, folding Dinah open and pinned in half.

Crouched low and close, lining them up, Helena glowers at the blonde's peal of laughter. 

“Hope your ride has good suspension,” Dinah teases, knees at her ears, long hair askew everywhere and it’s frustrating how gorgeous and pleased she looks even bared open like this at Helena’s mercy.

Maybe Helena will learn that kind of confidence one day.

For now, she’ll settle for the way Dinah’s head falls back, face pinching with awe, death grip on the bike’s chassis as Helena sinks into her. Helena glances between her enraptured expression and the sight of the thick, black girth spreading her cunt open, inch by inch, deeper and deeper under Dinah’s soft hungry growls until she’s shivering, gasps high, fast and shallow.

It’s a little awkward for Helena on such a large bike, boots on the ground to stop them from tumbling down, keep them steady. Dinah’s ankles threaten to unhook from the bars, but Helena scowls, gloved hands fastening her tight, and rocks her hips forward.

Dinah bows with a low, wounded noise of pleasure and stays tensed. 

The pace is slow at first, careful and deep to let her feel every bump and ridge of the piece cleaving her open, the piece she asked for because she insisted it would feel good while Helena just blinked at her and shrugged and put it on that first time, and had to agree when Dinah had clawed for it every chance since.

Helena straightens, relinquishing one of those ankles for a better grip on the bike. Her spine rolls in a sinuous continuous wave that keeps her anchored deep inside, withdrawing just the barest distance before their hips kiss again, and each time their skin touches, Dinah mews beautifully, head fallen to the side to watch Helena sink inside over and over.

“Oh-hh-hh my….” Dinah groans, brow pinching when Helena shifts again to grind against the upper roof of her cunt on every thrust. Helena leans more weight behind her motions, watches Dinah’s eyes roll back and shut, neck arching until she’s groaning deep and loud under each heavy drive of Helena's cock. 

_“Uuhn! U-uhn, uuhn!”_

The bike bounces under Helena’s rhythm and Dinah’s entire body trembles, braced against the onslaught of being fucked into leather and carbon fibre and chrome.

Their hips slap wetly and Helena growls, curling down to increase her pace, hips snapping in fast and sharp. The bike’s axle squeaks rhythmically under the abuse and Dinah keens, legs falling from the handlebars to splay wide and plaintive around Helena’s shoulders.

“Oh, fuck-- o- _oh, my f-fu-- shit-- shit--”_ Dinah sobs, high and breathless, thighs tense, drawing back, toes curling.

Helena fucks her and fucks her, and Dinah screams when her release crashes through her, the sound abruptly muffled with the clap of Helena's hand over her mouth. 

Helena could tell by the charge in the air it wouldn't have been _that_ cry. Still, she'd like to pretend she could push Dinah that far.

It's still heady when Dinah sobs and huffs beneath the palm of her hand. Helena grins watching thick tears roll down her cheeks, writhing through her release, pinned beneath Helena's hips to the bike. The Huntress hums, pleased, feeling Dinah shiver against her, limbs trembling as the last of her orgasm racks through her, and only when she goes limp with a stifled whimper, does Helena remove her hand, surging in for a kiss.

Dinah startles, but allows it--firm and lingering, coming down together, sharing breath and a heartbeat. When Helena breaks away, they remain close and Helena searches the flushed lines of her face. Dinah blinks back at her, eyelids heavy, catching her breath.

"You know, you're really pretty."

Dinah snorts a laugh, pawing some of the hair from her face. "You're pretty pretty yourself, hot stuff."

Helena's mouth tugs in a smile. "We are. Aren't we?"

Dinah laughs again, this time sounding endeared. "Ok, can you pull out before we do this. I need some air."

"Do what?" Helena asks, pulling out as requested, smirking at the white mess that trails from between Dinah's thighs. Then frowning when she realises it's all over her leather, and she'll need to clean that up.

Dinah blinks at her, smile bright and wide. Something about that look reminds Helena of a deer in headlights. "Getting--" She throws her hands wide in a shrug, "Nachos!"

Helena considers it. "That actually sounds like a great idea."

"I know, right!" Dinah looks relieved. 

"Fuck, I'm hungry. Can we clean this up first, though?"

Helena exhales with a sigh of relief, already sitting up to help with the mess between her legs. "Yes, absolutely."

**Author's Note:**

> So follow me into the dark  
> Break up a piece of your heart  
> Sell it for, sell it for, sell it for money and cars  
> Come out wherever you are  
> \- "Sway with me," Saweetie and GALXARA
> 
> Quenching my thirst over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bellsybuilds), come bring a drink.
> 
>  **Permissions:** You do not need to ask for permission to make translations, podfics, fanfic or fanart for any of my stories-- I do ask that you link back to my original work and let me know because I would LOVE to share what you've created.


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